Beach Thing

by DL White

  Staring into my mug of chai, I gulped back the tear that wanted to escape the corner of my eye and slide down my cheek; tamped down the emotion that made my throat close up.

  “He’s… different in New York. He’s famous, there. Everyone knows him, knows his face and his work. He has a legion of women to take my place. This was really only supposed to be for fun. It was never meant to mean enough to spend money on airline tickets and long distance phone service.”

  I inhaled deeply, then sighed the long breath out. I tried to feel like a weight had lifted from my shoulders but… I didn’t feel that, quite yet.

  “Well, I am a romantic, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to hold out hope.” She lifted the large white mug to her lips and sipped her cocoa, her expressive brown eyes on me. “You know…” She licked her lips and settled back, tucking the mug close to her chest. “Right before Jason and I moved here, we had this same sort of conversation.”

  “Yeah? Who was moving and who was staying behind?”

  “I was moving. Jason wanted to wait another year, save some more money. I thought he was just stalling so I told him he could stay behind in Austin. Work for a year, save money to open his business. And that was the plan for awhile.”

  “But you two are here together, so… what happened?”

  She shrugged, then offered a small but smug grin. “Love conquered all, I like to say.”

  “What the hell does that mean, Dionne?”

  “We loved each other too much to be apart. He loved me too much to let me come out here and launch a business on my own. I loved him too much to leave him behind. We had a long talk, struck a compromise. Then moved out here together only three months later than our planned date.”

  She sat up, setting her mug onto the table and laying a hand on top of mine. “I’m just going to keep hoping that love conquers all for you and Wade. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

  I dropped Dionne off at her street and kept walking toward mine. I was deep in thought, my heart almost hopeful at her words.

  Things always had a way of working out. Maybe love could conquer all. Then I chuckled and shook my head, zipping up my jacket against the cool air.

  As I turned onto my street, I saw a car in front of the house on the corner. Wade rushed out of the front door, turning off lights and locking things up. He rolled a suitcase behind him and didn’t even glance up as he lifted it into the trunk, got into the car and drove away.

  I watched from the shadow of the large wisteria in my neighbor’s yard. A suitcase meant Wade was leaving.

  Love conquers all, huh? That was why Wade was leaving, in a hurry, without saying so much as a word to me?

  “Bullshit”, I spit out to myself, crossing the street to my house.

  14

  Wade

  * * *

  I had every intention on seeing Ameenah that night. It had been three days, long enough to give her time and space to get her bearings. We’d talked a little here and there, enough to say good morning, have a good day and goodnight, but nothing meaningful, like before. No long discussions about the music industry and what makes a song a hit. No vents about the latest Black Diamond Business Council meeting, or endless pacing and brainstorming about new innovations she could bring to the shop.

  It had been a long three days.

  It hadn’t been quiet, though. I’d been using the time to work, since Gage kept bringing up the subject. He had lent me the house to get me out of New York, to kill the distraction that the resurgence of my father brought to my life. And, to be real, I was grateful. I had no problems working on the island and I would have brushed off Gage’s comments if he wasn’t hell bent on blaming Ameenah for something she had nothing to do with. He wasn’t a fan of exchanging one distraction for another… but she wasn’t a distraction.

  We didn’t normally get into it like that and I almost didn’t know how to come back from it. Our conversations had been tense, all business for a couple of days after our argument. I kept the talk focused on the work, even when Gage tried to turn it more personal. I meant what I said— Ameenah was none of his business. By this morning, though, Gage seemed to be back to normal and so I was I, for the most part.

  I was trying to time when she’d be home and I could drop over to her house, see if I could clear some things up between us. I’d showered, cleaned up my goatee, brushed my hair, splashed on a little of that Jean Paul Gaultier she seemed to like and had just pulled on a pair of pants and a sleeved shirt in baby blue, her favorite color, when the cell rang out with my mom’s ringtone.

  I hadn’t talked to her in a few days, so I picked up the call and put her on speaker while I finished getting dressed.

  “Hey, Ma. What’s cookin’?”

  “Wade? Son, where are you?”

  “I’m… what do you mean, where am I? Where’ve I been all summer?”

  “So you’re not here? In New York? Doing a show with Ruben tonight?”

  My world tilted on its axis so forcefully, I lost my balance. I made it to the edge of the bed and eased my way down.

  “No, Ma. I’m not in New York doing a show with Ruben. What’s going on?”

  I listened with horror—and rage as my mother described being out at Canelle, a pastry and coffee shop in Jackson Heights, with a few of the Biddies and running into Ruben. Rather, he ran into them; just happened to show up at the same spot.

  My father was, by all accounts a handsome man. Prison had served him well— three hots and a cot and a cushy “job” running the weight room had turned out a specimen. I didn’t imagine that he had any trouble with the ladies. I was the spitting image of him, like he lopped of a limb and it grew into a whole another person. Anyone walking down the street seeing his face saw mine as well.

  “Not ten minutes after we sat down with our orders, he walked in,” Ma said. I detected a tremor in her voice that I hoped was more anger than fear. “I need my raisin danish and coffee or my day doesn’t go right. Anyway, he introduced himself to the ladies. He was charming; he made nice, you know? Then he opened this folder he had with him and handed out these flyers that said he was appearing at Tonic, that club over near Times Square?”

  I knew Tonic well. And I knew the club owner, Drae, very well. My head shook involuntarily. Drae knew better than this. Way better. My manager, Fontaine, would have never booked this show, so Ruben had gone around everybody to make this happen.

  In the back of my mind, I wondered how much that cost.

  “Me and Gage do a lot of shows there. He said he was gonna be there?”

  “You too. Says right here on this paper... Ruben Marshall live, appearing tonight. Accompanied by legendary, award winning producer Wade Marshall.”

  “Appearing? To do what?”

  “He didn’t say. I assumed he was singing, but… maybe you were supposed to be the big show.”

  “But—” I huffed, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I was a little light headed. And a lot furious. “I don’t understand how this even happened. I know Fontaine doesn’t know about this, or he would have called me. So Ruben’s gonna appear... and do something… and when I don’t show, then what?”

  “Then he probably says you flaked or something came up.”

  “Leaving him on that stage looking like a dummy, with my name attached to his. Which reflects back on me. And on Gage and on our whole crew. Man!”

  I stood, exhaling heavy breaths, heading toward the closet. “Ma, listen. I’m about to see if I can get on a flight out of here. If you hear from him, don’t say nothin’. You hear me? I don’t need him knowing I’m coming to bust up his little coming out party.”

  “Shouldn’t you call Tonic and—”

  “I’ll deal with Tonic. Me and the manager go way back. I can’t believe he didn’t call me to confirm this shit show. Could have shut it way down, right out of the gate.”

  “Son, calm down. There’s no reason you have to fly all the way up here just to deal with him tonight.
You might not even make it before he’s supposed to start. Why not just let him fall on his face?”

  “Because he’s using my name, Ma! He’s trying to get over, using my name, my connections, my reputation.”

  “But you could just call Tonic and cancel the show—”

  “Nah. I want to deal with him face to face, right now, once and for all. I want him out of my life and out of yours. For good.”

  She sighed, probably regretting that she’d taught me to follow through on things I believed in, things I decided to do. She wouldn’t be able to talk me out of it. She’d taught me that, too— stand firm in your convictions. “Be safe, son. Let me know when you’ve landed.”

  I called Gage and filled him in, then asked if he could arrange the use of a private jet. He had an account with a service that was virtually on-demand. He immediately agreed and hopped on another phone to make arrangements. When he hung up the other line, he confirmed that I could get on a Gulfstream headed for New York.

  “But it’s leaving in an hour or so. You gotta fly to the air strip. You want me up there, man? I’ll meet you if I need to.”

  “I should be able to handle it. Appreciate the offer though.”

  “Everything aside… I’m with you if you need me to be. Say the word, I’ll be right out.” I chuckled and halfway grinned. This was Gage’s way of apologizing.

  “Thanks. If I need you, I’ll send the word out. And thanks for the ride. I’ll keep you in the loop of how things work out.”

  I hung up, thinking I should call Ameenah, but I still had to pack and the airport was an hour away. I had to move, so I threw some clothes into a small carryon, grabbed my phone and my wallet and closed up the house.

  I glanced over at Ameenah’s darkened house, a single light glowing on the porch as I sped by. At least she didn’t see me leave.

  I made it to the strip just in time to hand the porter my bag and climb the steps into the aircraft. The flight was only about half full, so eight of sixteen seats were occupied by men likely heading back to the city after a brief break with their families.

  I didn’t want to be leaving and wasn’t planning on make it a long return to New York. I wanted to handle this business with Ruben and come right back to Black Diamond. I’d become accustomed to the island— the sea air, the slower pace, the sound of the bay outside the window, the view of the rolling waves and white sand from anywhere in the house.

  And Ameenah… I didn’t want to leave her at all. If I could figure out a way that things could work out between us, it would be worth a shot but as it was, I didn’t see it. I just hoped I would get the chance to say goodbye to her before leaving the island for good.

  The flight was short, a straight shot northeast. We landed at a strip outside JFK and from there I hopped right into a cab and headed into the city. I obsessively checked my watch; Ruben planned on “appearing” around ten o’clock and I was hoping to catch him— and Drae, the manager at Tonic— before things got out of hand.

  “Traffic is heavy tonight,” the cabbie said over his shoulder. He pointed toward the throng of cars stopped in front of Tonic, causing a backup a block long.

  “If you can drop me at the corner, that would be fine.”

  I paid the cabbie and hopped out, then jogged with my suitcase to Tonic, opting to head to the side door instead of trying to get through the front door. I knew the bouncer, but I didn’t want anyone outside to know that I was there. I did happen to see the marquee, bragging bold and bright— Ruben and Wade Marshall- LIVE- Tonight!

  I shook my head, heading down the alley to the side door. I still had no idea what Ruben was planning to do aside from show up. And when he showed up without me? Then what?

  I banged on the door with the usual strength and rhythm. In a few seconds, I heard the locks slip and the door swung open, revealing the short but stocky frame of the club manager in a t-shirt and jeans. His baby locs were unkempt and his graying beard raggedy. He didn’t usually get “nice looking” as he called it, until right before opening.

  “Ay, man! I was wondering when you was gonna show up.” He held his hand out for a shake. I gave him the usual daps, then punched my knuckles into his chest. “Owwww,” he whined, rubbing the spot where I’d dug into him. “Fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Why didn't you call me about this shit tonight, Drae?”

  “Fuck you talkin’ bout, this shit tonight? This was your idea.”

  “The hell it was,” I fumed, pushing him aside. “Let’s go to your office. We need to talk.”

  Drae trailed me to his office, a room underground, beneath the club. What it lacked in light and a welcoming atmosphere, it made up for in space and looking like the Champagne Room at your favorite stripper joint. Leather chairs, a private dance floor including the requisite brass poles, a private bar, plush carpeting and a large L-shaped desk and oversized chair, which he occupied as soon as we walked into the room.

  He pulled a cigar from the humidor next to his desk and stuck one end into his mouth. “You want one? Got some nice new Cubans.”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t want a cigar. I want to know how you know my father and how he got you to book him a show here without going through Fontaine. With my name. Man, I haven’t been around all summer. You knew I was going away.”

  “Yeah, I knew. But dude came in on some father-son shit, talking about how he’d been spending time with you, putting together some music. He said he’d talked to you about it, that Fontaine was cool with everything, to go ahead and book it and ya’ll would be in touch.”

  I blinked. Hard. Incredulous, I ran a palm over my head, then scrubbed it down my face. “So you fell for that line, the father-son bullshit. Knowing my history with him, you didn’t talk to anyone to confirm it was happening? Fontaine would have told you it was some made up nonsense. What’s he even supposed to be doing tonight?”

  “He didn't say,” Drae answered. “He said you and he were still working on the set.’

  “So how much did he offer you for the spot? And don’t play me— I know you wouldn’t do this shit if it wasn’t about some money.”

  Drae sucked on his cigar, then blew out a plume of smoke. “Handed over five grand. Cash. Money talks, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  “Fi—when have I ever offered you five grand for a spot here, Drae?” And, more to the point, where did Ruben get five grand from, a few months out of prison? He was supposed to be on parole, on his best behavior, out on work assignment. Not using my name to book clubs.

  Drae leaned back in his executive leather chair and chewed on the end of his cigar. He was nowhere near as stressed as he should have been. “You know… I figured, when I hadn’t heard from you to go over a set list and lighting, that you had nothing to do with this show. And when I talked to Fontaine earlier, he didn’t say anything about it.”

  “So you’re not a total idiot. You know the show is bogus, so why is my name still in lights on the front of your building?”

  “Because your name draws a crowd,” he answered, his wide smile full of missing teeth. “I figured he’d get up there— if he even showed up— do a little something, then we’d say you couldn’t make it but stay and enjoy the drink specials. I booked a DJ to spin, so we would have been fine.”

  “But everyone would be thinking I was a flake for not showing up tonight.”

  He shrugged, poking the cigar between his teeth. “Not my problem.”

  I bit down on my tongue to avoid saying something I might regret.

  But I couldn’t help it. “We are supposed to be partners, Drae. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. I got a new record coming out, I premiere it at your club. You’re talking about how my name draws a crowd— you can’t even get on this block tonight. You, me and Gage go way back. We’ve known each other a long time and that’s supposed to mean I can trust you.

  “But if I can’t trust you to protect my name and my business, there’s no need to keep booking this club for gigs. You and I b
oth know Gage could do the 40/40 Club but he chooses to perform here because of our relationship.”

  I stalked toward the door, hoping to get through it before I ripped it off of its hinges. “Nice to know that relationship sold for five grand.”

  Drae said something to me as I walked out of the door but I wasn’t listening. I stomped through the underground level and up the stairs to the club level, nodding at a few people I knew, offering a fist bump to those passing by. I made my way to the sound booth, where Obie, the DJ was beginning his set up.

  “What up, Obie?” We exchanged the usual daps, then clasped hands and did the manly, half hug thing.

  “It’s all good, Wade. Thought you was on summer vaca. Some island somewhere.”

  “I’m still resting. Had to come into town to deal with some things. What have you heard about this show tonight?” I leaned up against a pillar, admiring the new state-of-the-art sound console he was using.

  “Just that he’s your pops and one of you would let us know what the deal was when you arrived. Like normal.”

  I tensed, gritting my molars together. Like normal. He even knew my usual routine. To avoid leaks and surprises, no one in the club would know what we were bringing until we showed up. That was how we had always worked, and now that I thought of it, our process had been profiled in some magazine a few years ago. Ruben must have gotten a hold of it and tucked it away for future use.

  “Yeah, well, I’m just saying. If I was you, I would expect to spin tonight. At least until Drae’s guest DJ shows up. This guy's a fuckin’ charlatan and I’m about to shut it down. I don’t know him from Adam and I definitely didn’t book a damn show with him. I can’t even believe Drae set this up without calling me.”

  “No shit?” Obie stopped moving crates of records and straightened up to stare at me. “You didn’t know about this?”